Getting Away with Murder
by Chibi Orochi-kun
Summary: From a young age, all she has known was killing. At 12 she could whip even the mightiest worrier, and still she trained to get stronger. Poor luck that the Inu Taichi ran across this child, and worse that they must join forces with her in the present. Ano


**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Inuyasha characters, they belong to the wonderful Rumiko Takahashi. However, original characters within the story, aside from Night Ember, belong to me. They are featured in my Manga, Kuroshim, which should be posted on the internet by the beginning of next year. Night Ember belongs to Celestral4000, a fellow author and close friend. She gave me permission to use her character within my Manga and this fanfiction. Thank you.

Getting Away with Murder

Columns of smoke and ash billowed up to the blackened sky. The light of the setting sun and raising moon blocked from view by the ink black clouds of ash, smoke and debris. Orange, red and yellow colored streaks ran up the columns as they rose, the light fading the higher they went. The scent of burning wood, metal, flesh, bone and blood filled the thick air. All those who had survived the slaughter where killed by the air they breathed, the toxins being released by the burning objects, people and animals poisoning their lungs, killing them within minutes. Bodies lay among the wreckage, some burning, others crushed. Disfigured humans lay on what was once a street, crushed in the stampede of villagers trying desperately trying to escape the inescapable. Not one hut was left standing in one piece. They all were either burning or demolished in the chaos. One figure stood alone amongst the destruction, chaos, murder and blood shed. This lone figure was the one who caused it.

Blood ran down the razor sharp edge of a blade that was a foot taller than any human ever hoped to reach. Crimson painted the silver surface of the metal, excess slowly falling to the blood stained ground. At the figures feet lay the bodies of countless humans who were stupid enough to challenge the wielder of the long blade. Long black hair fanned around the face of the figure, keeping it from view. Unlike the humans that the figure had slaughtered like cattle, the figure could tolerate the smoke and toxin in the air, it lungs were immune to it. A pale arm covered with a dark sleeve, soaked in blood, raised the long blade to the figures face. Sniffing the bloody surface, the figure opened its mouth and, using its long lizard like tongue, licked the blood off of the razor sharp edge. The figure released a sigh of content but not satisfaction. It needed more chaos, more destruction, more death, more pain and more blood.

Slowly sheathing the long blade, the slide of metal against polished wood music to the figures four-inch long white ears, decored with three black stripes. Pale hands bound by black claws grasped the strap of black leather that ran across the figures immatured flat chest. Slightly shifting its shoulders, adjusting the seven-foot long sword and sheath that were strapped to its small frame, the figure began to walk. The figure itself was only a little over four-feet tall, small for it's age. It bared a head of knee length black hair that shimmered eerily without any light. In front of its four-inch long ears lay forelocks that went down to its shoulders. Long bangs hid the figures pale face from view. The figure wore a torn, black haori and long, baggy black hakama's. Its feet were unprotected from the burning and bloody soil. Emerging from the small of the figure's back was a four-foot long black tail that resembled a feline tail. It waved back and forth in excitement of another slaughter. Its black fur, like the figures hair, shimmered without light.

Only an hour before sunrise, the figure emerged from the darkness of the forest and stood atop a tall hill. Standing still as a statue of the dark god, the figure peered through its thick black bangs and viewed the village that lay at the base of the hill. It was small but there were many people living within. The figure could hear their individual heart beats with its large ears. All the residents of the village slept soundly, without fear that some of them might not wake up or that the rest won't make it past sunrise. From underneath the figures long black bangs, a fanged smirk emerged. As well as the murderous chuckle of a child who's natural innocence had been striped away long ago only to leave pure insanity. Indeed, the figure was a child, a demon child. The child lifted its head slightly, black bangs parting to reveal one of its eyes. The black eye stared on in pure madness, the whites of the eye were turned light gray in blood lust. bursts of maniacal laughter flowed from the child's smirking mouth as it continued down to the village, where the destruction continued.


End file.
